Outside Intervention
by Ranchan2k3
Summary: Post-canon for Ranma, starts pre-Hogwarts for Harry. Dudley Dursley's favorite game happened to be Harry Hunting. He always got away with it, so he kept doing it. But what happens if someone steps in? And what if that someone happens to be the biggest loose cannon in martial arts, Ranma Saotome? Independent!Super!Buttkicking!Harry, Dumbledore bashing, AU.
1. Here's Ranma?

**DICLAIMER:** Obviously, I don't own the rights to Harry Potter. I don't own the rights to Ranma, either. I own nothing but the clothes on my back and the laptop this was written on. Please don't sue, I'm not making a penny off of this, I swear!

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><p><strong>Outside Intervention<strong>

By

RanChan2k3

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Here's...Ranma?<strong>

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><p><em><strong>April 17, 1989<strong>_

_**Little Whinging, Surrey, England**_

It was a relatively pleasant day as Japanese martial arts prodigy, Ranma Saotome, heir apparent to the Saotome School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts, strolled through the hamlet of Little Whinging, whistling a tune to himself. He was in the area as part of a worldwide training journey to clear his head, started after Soun Tendo's insistence that Ranma get his personal life in order before any further talk of marrying Akane comes into play. As he turned a corner, however, he spotted something in the playground that made him see red. Three boys, all fairly large for their age, were beating up a fourth one, one who was very small for his age and wearing a pair of taped-up glasses along with worn out clothing that was at least 3 or 4 sizes too large for him. In fact…yes, they looked more in keeping with the large, fat oaf that appeared to be leading the assault against the group's small target. Worn-out hand-me-downs from the large one, then, which further incensed Ranma because it meant the small boy was being beaten up by a family member. With a growl, Ranma dashed into the melee. In seconds, he had them all down and incapacitated, though the large one was still conscious. It was he that Ranma decided to interrogate.

"Alright, fat-ass," growled Ranma. "You got one chance to tell me just what the hell you think you an' yer no-good group of boyfriends were doin'."

The very frightened large boy could only stutter.

"Fine, we'll start with an easier question," the martial artist tried again. "What's your name?"

"D-D-Dudley D-Dursley…s-s-sir," the fat boy whimpered.

"And why were three of you beatin' up a boy who very obviously couldn't defend himself against even one of you, let alone all three?"

Dudley gulped. "W-W-We were j-j-just…just beating up the freak a little…"

That was the wrong answer, it seemed. A quick pressure point poke quickly relieved Dudley of consciousness. With a huff, Ranma turned his gaze to the small boy he'd rescued, squatting down to be more on the boy's level. "What's your name, kid?" His voice was soft and gentle, compared to the harsh coldness he'd spoken to Dudley with.

The reply came in a soft, quiet voice. "Harry Potter, sir."

"And how old are you?"

"I'll be 9 at the end of July, sir."

"Can you tell me why these boys were beating you up?"

Harry swallowed nervously. "I can't. If I tell, I'll get in trouble."

Ranma blinked. "Trouble from who?"

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia."

"I see," replied Ranma slowly. "Can you tell me where they live?"

"Number 4 Privet Drive, sir." The boy's eyes suddenly widened. "No! You can't! If you tell them, I'll be locked in the cupboard again! I-" He suddenly stopped speaking, his hands over his mouth.

Ranma narrowed his eyes. "Locked in the cupboard? _Again_?"

Harry sighed, realizing he'd messed up. "Yes, sir. My aunt and uncle keep me locked away in the cupboard under the stairs whenever I do anything they consider freakish. Sometimes even if I just do better than my cousin Dudley in school."

"And what do they consider…freakish?" Ranma was calm on the outside, but inside he was raging.

"Um…sometimes things happen around me when I feel angry or scared," Harry answered in a small voice. "Like, one time, when I was running from Dudley and his gang, I was really scared and wishing I could be somewhere else. Next thing I know, I hear a loud crack, and then I'm up on the roof of the school. I don't know how I got there, but I got punished for it when I got home."

Ranma was putting two and two together and getting four. '_A teleport_,' he thought to himself. '_That would mean the kid's a magic user and doesn't even realize it. His aunt and uncle seem to know it, though, and from the sound of it, they hate it. Not that I can't understand the sentiment, but to take it out on an innocent little boy who can't help it?_' Out loud, he said, "Harry. What would you say if I told you…you never have to go back to your aunt and uncle again?"

Harry's green eyes lit up with so much hope that it practically broke Ranma's heart. "I think that would be the answer to every Christmas and birthday wish I've ever made, sir."

That settled it in Ranma's mind. He pulled out a pen and paper and wrote a note, then pinned it to Dudley Dursley's shirt. That done, he stood up and took Harry's hand, then led the boy away from the park, heading in the opposite direction from Privet Drive.

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><p>Hours later, Dudley Dursley returned to his home at #4 Privet Drive, bruised and in tears. "Mum! Dad! Come here, quick!"<p>

The boy's cries were answered by a large man with a brush-like mustache – Vernon Dursley - and a horse-faced woman – Petunia – who was immediately all over Dudley. "Oh, heavens, what in the world happened to you, Duddikins?!"

In response, Dudley handed over the note he'd had attached to his shirt. Petunia took it and read through it, then gasped and handed it over to Vernon. Vernon read the note.

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><p><em>Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,<em>

_By now you're wondering about the state of your little baby whale of a son. I'll tell you the complete, undiluted truth._

_My name is Ranma Saotome. I'm a perfectly ordinary human being, except for one thing: I happen to be a highly trained martial artist. I was walking through your quaint little town looking for a place to train, when I came upon a sight that truly disgusted me: Your fat oaf of a son and two friends of his were beating the utter crap out of a defenseless little boy much smaller than they are. A boy wearing your fat-ass son's cast-offs. So I did what any martial artist in that situation would do. I put a stop to it and interrogated the children involved._

_Hearing your son say that he was "just beating up the freak a little" filled me with so much loathing that I honestly thought about going to the supposed adults who would raise a child to think like that and rending them into a pair of unpleasant red stains on their living room carpet._

_Let there be no mistake: You three FREAKS will never see Harry Potter again. I've taken him directly to a hospital in London to have him checked out. The doctors there are going to be building a case against you for what I suspect to be years of child neglect and child abuse. Once you two alleged adults are safely behind bars where you can't destroy another innocent child, your son will find his way into England's lovely adoption system, and I personally will be taking custody of young Harry. I'll be teaching him to protect himself from abusive freaks like you, and when the time comes, I fully intend to be there when he learns to control the special abilities he happened to be born with._

_It really is a shame. If you'd seen your way clear to loving him like you should have, you might have had a ready-made ally against the people you're clearly so terrified of. A protector. All you needed to do was be the family he so desperately needed. But that, apparently, was far too much to ask._

_I'll also be looking into how he ended up in the custody of filth like you in the first place. Rest assured, if I don't like what I discover, everyone responsible for it will suffer._

_By my calculations, the police should be showing up at your door in just a few minutes, with a search warrant and plenty of unpleasant questions. Enjoy._

_Sincerely,_

_Ranma Saotome – Saotome School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts_

_P.S.: Karma's a bitch, and she's back in heat!_

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><p>Vernon's face went pale as he finished reading the note. It then went even paler as he heard the unmistakable sound of police sirens approaching at a rapid clip. They'd never believe the boy was just a freak; all they'd understand is that they'd kept the boy in the cupboard under the stairs.<p>

'_We're screwed_,' was the last thing Vernon Dursley thought before three police cars pulled up and parked in front of his house.

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><p><em>Author's Notes: Yes, I've gone ahead and joined in on the Harry Potter craze. I know I have two incomplete stories, but I've honestly hit a dead end on those. I know more or less what I want to do with this, so I'm hoping this one doesn't sputter and grind to a halt like the other two. Read and review, please, and let me know if you're interested in how this goes!<em>


	2. How to Win Friends and Annoy Old Wizards

**DISCLAIMER:** Still don't own 'em, nope. If I did, Ranma would have actually married Akane, and Hermione wouldn't have come within a thousand yards of Ron after his comment in the first book that had her running off to cry in the bathroom where she nearly got killed by a twelve foot mountain troll.

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><p><em><strong>AN: **__In JKR's universe, Dumbledore is not perceived to be evil. However, this runs completely contradictory to his actual actions in regards to Harry Potter. I submit to you that the man is either highly incompetent, or secretly evil. I don't believe for a moment that the man is incompetent, which leads me to the other conclusion: secretly evil. Dumbledore is going to be portrayed in my story as a Dark Lord who is very good at pretending to be a Light Lord, so if this disturbs you, you're welcome to find another story to read. The rest of you, fear not: His plans are going to be blowing up in his face in spectacular fashion. With that out of the way, read on._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: How to Win Friends and Annoy Old Wizards<strong>

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><p><em><strong>May 2, 1989<strong>_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**Headmaster's Office**_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Order of Merlin First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, heaved a weary sigh as he finally returned to his office at Hogwarts. It had been a busy three weeks for the old man, attending a number of important international functions in his capacity as the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and he was glad to be back at what he considered to be the focal point of magical power in England. He was so relieved, in fact, that he almost didn't notice that something was wrong.

Almost.

After some consideration, he suddenly realized what the problem was: The instruments he'd set up to monitor Harry Potter had gone out of whack. Frowning, Dumbledore drew his wand and walked over to one of them, tapping it with the wand. It gave a puff of acrid black smoke, then disintegrated, leaving Albus blinking in consternation.

'_That's odd_,' he thought to himself. '_That was the monitor attached to the wards at #4 Privet Drive. It should only do that if the wards failed, but that would only happen if…_' Realization dawned. '_No! The boy can't possibly have escaped!_' The old wizard checked and re-checked the rest of his instruments, and they all reported the same thing. Harry Potter was no longer residing at #4 Privet Drive. The only instrument still working was the one that confirmed the boy was still alive.

This was bad. Dumbledore needed Harry Potter to be meek and pliable when he finally got to Hogwarts. Then he would look on Dumbledore as a grandfatherly hero for getting him away from the Dursley family, at which point he could guide the boy into sacrificing himself to Voldemort. This would take care of the horcrux in Harry's head as well as eliminate the threat Harry Potter represented to Albus Dumbledore's power, and at that point Dumbledore – with Gryffindor's sword in hand and accompanied by the phoenix he'd bound to him through dark rituals, Fawkes – would tearfully slay Voldemort while bemoaning poor Harry's fate and crying over the fact that he couldn't save Voldemort. Then all of England would beg for Dumbledore to rule over them, and after taking some time to "think it over," he would finally – reluctantly – concede to guide them under his benevolent rule.

But all of these plans were moot if Harry Potter wasn't being abused by those stupid muggles his mother was related to. Dumbledore quickly stepped over to his fireplace and threw in a pinch of floo powder, calling out, "Arabella Figg's residence!" Getting down onto his knees as the fire turned green, Albus stuck his head into the fire. "Arabella? Arabella, are you in?"

A moment later, Mrs. Figg answered the call. "Oh, Albus! You're back! I've been trying to reach you for days!"

"Ah, Arabella," replied Dumbledore, his grandfatherly persona firmly in place. "Yes, I only just returned to my office at Hogwarts. It seems the wards around #4 Privet Drive have failed. Have you any idea what happened?"

Mrs. Figg nodded emphatically. "Oh, certainly, I do indeed! It was around two weeks ago now, I believe. Young Harry was apparently found being beaten up by his cousin Dudley and two of Dudley's friends. The person who found them was some martial artist from Japan – Randall Swootony or something like that – and he came to Harry's rescue. Then, if you can believe it, he actually had the police come and arrest Vernon and Petunia! They were all hauled off in police cars. Not two days later, they were found guilty on multiple counts of child abuse and child neglect, and sentenced to 30 years each in prison without possibility of parole, while Dudley was sent off to an orphanage. It was all over the London _Times_; I don't think there's a muggle in all of England who doesn't know of what happened to Harry Potter."

'_Damn_,' thought Albus. '_That means I can't simply obliviate the police and put Harry back there._' "I see," the old man replied. "Thank you for informing me. I have much to do, I'm afraid, so I shall let you get back to what you were doing." Albus then terminated the call and pulled his head out of the fire, rising stiffly back to his feet. Then, Albus Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, etc., etc., etc., began throwing books and other things while swearing enough to send the occupants of all the portraits in his office scurrying for a frame elsewhere in the castle.

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><p><em><strong>Crawley, West Sussex, England<strong>_

_**May 2, 1989**_

Harry Potter-Saotome – formerly known as just Harry Potter – now considered himself the luckiest boy on the planet. Three weeks ago, he'd been certain that all he could expect from life was to be continually abused and neglected by his relatives, that he was doomed for the rest of his life to an existence of sheer loneliness and misery. Then, two weeks ago, like a ray of sunshine parting the clouds, his rescuer had appeared: Ranma Saotome, martial artist extraordinaire and now his new legal guardian. What's more, Harry had been overjoyed to finally have a name for the strange things that sometimes happened around him. Magic. He'd been skeptical at first when Ranma had told him that he – little Harry Potter – had been born with the ability to use magic, but the demonstration of that unique curse had a wide-eyed Harry thoroughly convinced of the truth in those words, and now he understood that he wasn't a freak after all. The knowledge had him smiling for two days afterwards. Today, they were moving into their new home in Crawley, where Ranma had taken a job as a P.E. teacher at the local primary school. As they were unpacking boxes, there was a knock at the door. A curious Harry watched as Ranma answered the door, revealing a nice looking couple he didn't know accompanied by a little girl with wild, bushy hair Harry's own age.

"Can I help you?," inquired Ranma politely.

The man of the trio spoke first. "We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I'm Dan Granger, this is my wife Emma, and our daughter, Hermione. We're actually your new neighbors; we saw you moving in and noticed you had a son who appeared to be our daughter's age."

Ranma nodded thoughtfully. "Son, huh…well, close enough. Thank you for welcoming us, sir. I'm Ranma Saotome, and this is my newly adopted son, Harry Potter-Saotome."

Emma's eyes went wide. "I read about that! Oh, dear…the poor boy…well, I'm certainly glad someone was there to rescue him from all that."

As the three adults stepped inside and moved into the living room to chat, Harry looked over the little girl. '_Hermione_,' he thought to himself, rolling the name around in his head. He decided he liked it. With a smile, he approached her. "Hi, I'm Harry. Your dad said your name is Hermione, right?"

Hermione squeaked a bit at actually being addressed. "Um, yes, that's right." She bit her lip for a moment, then blurted out, "I heard my mum talking about you when she read the newspaper a couple of weeks ago. And I…I, um…" Her courage faltered.

Harry blinked a bit. "Yes? Go on…"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind terribly maybe being my friend?"

Harry recognized the girl's awkwardness for what it was. Like himself, she was friendless, for whatever reason, and was making a tremendous gamble by asking that question. With a broad smile, Harry answered, "I'd be happy to be your friend, Hermione."

The blushing smile that Harry received in return made Harry decide that he'd do whatever it took to see as much of that smile as possible from now on.

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><p><em>Author's Note: And that's the second chapter. I know not everybody is a fan of the Evil!Dumbledore angle, but as I said at the beginning, when you really look at everything he's done regarding Harry and list it all down, it's really the most obvious conclusion. If you'd prefer to see the story taken elsewhere, then I invite you to write your own version of the story with some other explanation for why Dumbledore has done the things he's done. I'd be very interested in seeing what you think qualifies as a reasonable explanation for abandoning a toddler on a doorstep in the middle of the night in late Octoberearly November with nothing more than a note, then somehow not checking up on the child at all over the following ten years. Anyway, I'm rambling. Read, review, and as always, be excellent to yourselves…and each other._


	3. Hamming It Up

**DISCLAIMER:** A thing that an author puts at the start of a story to proclaim that they do not own the rights of the franchise or franchises being used and are in no way making any sort of profit off of publishing the story, as in the case with this story, and the franchises of Ranma and Harry Potter.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Hamming It Up<strong>

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><p><em><strong>London Zoo<strong>_

_**July 31, 1989**_

The months since their move to Crawley had been the happiest in living memory for Ranma Saotome and Harry Potter-Saotome. Ranma had begun in earnest the task of teaching Harry martial arts, and found in Harry a very apt pupil indeed. Ranma had noticed that this apparent eagerness to learn didn't seem to match up with the boy's school records, so he'd asked about it and learned that Harry was punished if he ever did better than his cousin Dudley in school, so he'd intentionally dumbed down his work and hidden his intelligence. When asked for confirmation of this, Harry had produced two copies of the same assignment from the previous year of classes, one version that he'd done correctly and most likely would have gotten full marks for, and a second version that was modified to indicate someone with the IQ of a bowl of mashed potatoes. It was this second version that he'd turned in and had graded, scraping barely a point or two above a failing grade. This, in Ranma's view, was yet another black mark against the Dursley family, and in particular against whoever it was that had placed Harry with them all those years ago.

Now, it was Harry's ninth birthday, and Ranma had surprised him by informing him that they'd be taking a trip to the zoo, to be followed up afterwards with a birthday party that Hermione and some of his other new friends from school had been invited to. Harry had even woken up that morning to real, honest-to-goodness birthday presents: some new clothes for the summer, a Game Boy with a handful of games, some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (or in England, Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles) action figures, books, a brand new karate gi, and (just in case Harry was curious) a packet of Instant Nyanniichuan powder.

After that and a hearty breakfast of Harry's favorites, they'd gone directly to the zoo, and Harry had enjoyed himself immensely. They had both been surprised to discover in the Reptile House that Harry could somehow talk to snakes. Harry was initially worried what Ranma would think of such a talent, but Ranma had laughed it off, claiming that if he'd had such an ability some years back, one of his father's more brilliant ideas for training might have been a tad more bearable. Harry had accepted that, and then they'd both been entertained as a giggling Harry talked with and translated a 30 foot anaconda's less than complimentary thoughts and feelings on the zookeepers and guests that she saw on a daily basis.

It was as they were getting ready to leave the zoo that everything went pear shaped.

"RANMA! PREPARE TO DIE!"

Ranma didn't think, just reacted. He quickly scooped Harry into his arms and leaped backwards, just in time for Ryoga to crash into the ground with the point of his umbrella, creating a seven foot crater from the point of impact. Ranma landed at the edge of the crater, Harry in his arms. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, then his face purpled in anger. "Dammit, Ryoga, what the hell d'you think you're doin'?! You almost nailed the kid here, you stupid son of a pig!"

But Ryoga, as usual, wouldn't hear it. "SHUT UP! Are you a coward?! Hiding behind a little boy, HOW DARE YOU!"

Ranma could tell at that point that Ryoga wouldn't possibly listen to reason. He put Harry down and instructed him firmly, "Go somewhere out of the line of fire, Harry. I've got this." Harry nodded and hurried off to the side to comply.

The resulting fight between the two was both awe inspiring and frightening for young Harry to watch. Zoo guests scattered as Ryoga fought with reckless abandon, destroying property everywhere in his efforts to crush Ranma. But Ranma was like quicksilver, dodging Ryoga's attacks and countering with precision strikes, which only seemed to enrage Ryoga even more.

It was while Ranma was getting an innocent bystander out of the way that Ryoga saw his opportunity. "I HAVE YOU!"

Harry had never been more scared or frightened in his life, visions of his new father crushed and dying springing to his mind. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and yelled, "LEAVE MY DADDY ALONE!" His magic responded, and the next thing Ryoga knew, he was immobilized, stiff as a board, and dangling upside-down in mid-air. Ryoga's eyes were wild, a look of panic mixed with rage in them, but he was immobilized so thoroughly that he couldn't even speak.

Ranma stood still a moment, panting in an effort to get his breath back, then he growled at Ryoga and barked, "YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH! This petty feud you've got with me ends now! It ain't just about you an' me anymore!" He pointed at Harry. "That kid over there is an orphan! The people he was left with were abusing him! I'm the one who found him, I'm the one who saved him, and I'm the one who ended up adopting him! If you kill me, you sentence an innocent child to the orphanage system, where he can only hope and pray that someone decides to adopt him before he becomes too old to be a desirable option anymore! Is that what you want for a kid who's only known hate and abuse until he met up with me?! IS IT?!" Even Harry could see that Ranma's words were reaching Ryoga, finally penetrating through the haze of rage, so he ran over to Ranma and hugged his father's leg. "Pull this crap again, Ryoga, and so help me God I will _end_ you."

Before anything else could happen, there were a number of cracks as half a dozen people with fancy wooden sticks in their hands appeared on the grounds. One of them was a stern-looking older woman with a square jaw and a monocle in one eye. She approached the scene of the fight aftermath, noting the hovering upside-down Ryoga, then addressed Ranma. "I'm Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We detected a bout of surprisingly powerful accidental magic and are here to deal with the results. What happened here?"

Before Ranma could answer, she finally noticed the little boy half hidden behind Ranma's leg. From this distance, she could clearly see the lightning bolt shaped scar on the boy's forehead, and surprise came instantly to the older woman's face. "Bless my soul…it's Harry Potter!"

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><p><em><strong>Ministry of Magic<strong>_

_**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**_

_**Director's Office**_

_**July 31, 1989**_

Amelia Bones sat at her desk and pondered what she'd learned over the last hour of interrogation. In front of her desk sat Harry Potter and his muggle guardian, Ranma Saotome. When asked how Ranma had come to be young Harry's guardian, the picture they'd painted of Harry's home life with the Dursleys had left her feeling ill. She'd immediately ordered one of her Aurors to find out how Harry had come to be placed with such a family. The results came back with a note: _Harry Potter placed with muggle relatives by order of Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Potter Will sealed by aforementioned Chief Warlock._ Amelia had immediately ordered the Will unsealed, citing a suspicion of criminal irregularities. She'd even gone so far as to officially open a case against Albus Dumbledore, just to quell anyone questioning the order. It was while Amelia was making small talk with Ranma and Harry over tea that the Auror she'd sent had come back with the Will in question and placed it on Amelia's desk.

"Thank you, Auror Jacobson. That will be all." The Auror nodded crisply to acknowledge the dismissal, then left the office. Opening the folder, Amelia began to read the Will.

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><p><em>I, James Charlus Potter, and I, Lily Evans Potter, do hereby swear on our magic that we are of sound mind, magic, and body. This is our Last Will and Testament, created this day of October 29, 1981. All other Wills are null and void.<em>

_If this Will is being read, then the unthinkable has happened, and we have been betrayed. Our house in Godric's Hollow was placed under the Fidelius charm by Albus Dumbledore. Our secret keeper was Peter Pettigrew, not Sirius Black, as we had led everyone to believe. If we are indeed dead at the hands of Voldemort, then it is because Peter Pettigrew has betrayed us and given him our location._

_Sirius Orion Black is the godfather to our son, Harry James Potter, and in the event of our death, either he or his godmother, Alice Longbottom, were to obtain custody of him. If they are unavailable for whatever reason, the following is a list of acceptable alternatives, in no particular order:_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Cyrus Greengrass_

_Augusta Longbottom_

_Andromeda Tonks_

_Arthur Weasley_

_**UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD HARRY END UP IN THE CUSTODY OF VERNON AND/OR PETUNIA DURSLEY.**_

_Tuition for Harry's education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be paid for in full from the Potter Vault. A trust vault will be left to Harry for expenses until he comes of age, to be kept at a minimum of 50,000 galleons at the end of every year, with the money to refill it coming from the Potter Vault._

_When Harry turns 11, he is to begin receiving instruction from Potter Account Manager Sharpaxe at Gringotts Bank as to what his duties and responsibilities will be when he comes of age. When Harry comes of age at 17, he is to immediately inherit the title of Lord and Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, along with full access to the Potter Vault and all properties in the Potter name and the Potter seat on the Wizengamot, unless he is emancipated earlier, in which case he is to inherit them on the day of his emancipation._

_Should Harry die before he is able to inherit the Potter title, lands, moneys, and seat, then all assets are to be converted to galleons and donated to St. Mungo's in his name._

_So say we, so mote it be._

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><p>Amelia leaned back, pondering what she'd read. This Will had just become evidence of extreme wrongdoing in the case of Sirius Black. If Black wasn't the secret keeper, shouldn't that have come out in his trial? Unless… "Auror Jacobson!"<p>

The Auror from before poked his head back in. "Ma'am?"

"Get me the transcripts of the trial for Sirius Orion Black."

Auror Jacobson blinked, then nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Then he left.

Amelia answered the unasked question in the eyes of her guests. "This Will has just cast a large shadow of doubt over something we have believed for nearly eight years now. On the night of October 31, 1981, a dark wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort attacked the house the Potter family was hiding within in Godric's Hollow. The house had been concealed by means of a magic spell called the Fidelius charm, which renders the structure it is placed on invisible and impossible to remember the address of. In this magic spell, a secret keeper is utilized. This person knows the secret of the building's address, and it is only he or she that is able to share that address so that people may find the place. We had previously believed that a man called Sirius Black was the Potter family's secret keeper, and that it was he who had betrayed the Potters and given Lord Voldemort their location. After that, it was our belief that another friend of the Potters named Peter Pettigrew had confronted Black in the streets, only to be killed by Black along with twelve muggles – non-magical people – with an overpowered blasting hex. This stalled Black long enough to be captured by Aurors, for which Pettigrew was posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin, Third Class. However, this Will states that Sirius Black was not, in fact, their secret keeper. It states quite clearly that Peter Pettigrew was the secret keeper, which throws eight years of belief in doubt and leaves me wondering how Sirius Black could have spent the last eight years in Azkaban, the wizarding prison, when I know for a fact that this particular detail would definitely have come up in any trial Black may have had."

At that point, there was a knock on the door. "Enter," Amelia called.

The door opened, and Auror Jacobson poked his head back in. "Um…ma'am? It appears that Sirius Black never actually received a trial."

Amelia immediately shot to her feet. "WHAT?!"

Auror Jacobson nodded. "The only thing I could find in Sirius Black's file was a single note. _Trial date pending_, it said."

Amelia sputtered a moment, then bellowed, "Get Black out of Azkaban, now! I am authorizing the immediate trial of Sirius Black before the full body of the Wizengamot, and I am also authorizing the use of Veritaserum! GO!" Auror Jacobson hastily moved to comply.

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><p><em><strong>Azkaban<strong>_

_**July 31, 1989**_

At the cell of Sirius Black, a team of three Aurors stopped and opened the cell. One of them said, "Come out, Black. You're about to stand trial for your crimes before the full body of the Wizengamot, under the influence of Veritaserum."

They were surprised to hear a chuckle from the shadows, before a raspy voice replied, "Took you long enough."

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><p><em>Author's Note: And so ends Chapter 3, the longest chapter of the story yet. A lot happened in this one, and the carefully crafted plans of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore are about to come crashing down around his ears. Tune in next time for the trial of Sirius Black, and as always, read and review. See you later!<em>


	4. But Siriusly, Folks

**DISCLAIMER:** Dat means dese character not be mine, yo.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: But Siriusly, Folks…<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Ministry of Magic<strong>_

_**Court of the Wizengamot**_

_**August 1, 1989**_

It was a confused Albus Dumbledore who sat down in his seat as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot that morning at 10:00. An emergency session had been called for by none other than Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he wondered what on Earth could be the matter. As the remaining members took their seats, he took hold of his gavel and called the session to order. "I, Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, hereby call this emergency session to order! Now, I feel obliged to inform the members of this august body that I have not been informed as to the reason for this meeting, only that it was Director Amelia Bones who called us here. Madam Bones, if you could explain, please?"

The stern-looking woman nodded and rose from her seat. "I have called for this session today because it came to my attention yesterday that a scion of an Ancient and Noble House was thrown into Azkaban without benefit of a trial, or even questioning under Veritaserum." Several Wizengamot members began murmuring amongst themselves, and Albus wondered why that sounded familiar. "We are here to correct that mistake." Amelia turned and called, "Bring in the defendant!"

The doors at one side of the chamber opened, and Albus felt a sinking feeling in his gut. It was him. Sirius Black. Blast that woman, how had she found out? He didn't even hear the shouting from the Wizengamot members; he was too busy trying to figure out how Amelia Bones of all people had discovered that Black had been thrown into Azkaban without a trial or questioning. As Black sat in the defendant's chair, chains wrapped themselves around him, and Amelia Bones continued. "Magical Britain vs. Sirius Orion Black. Mr. Black, on the charges of conspiracy to commit murder, accessory to murder, and being a Death Eater, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty, now bring out the Veritaserum!" He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out for the truth serum. Madam Bones nodded, and an Auror came forth, supplying the required three drops, and then she began the questioning.

"Defendant, state your name."

"Sirius Orion Black." His voice came out in a monotone.

"State your date of birth."

"October 3, 1959."

That proved the serum was working as it was supposed to. Crap. Amelia Bones continued. "Are you a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Have you ever been a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Did you murder Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles on October 31, 1981?"

"No."

That caused a stir. "Were you the Potters' secret keeper?"

"No."

"Then who was?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

Outraged clamoring commenced. It took Amelia firing off several firecrackers from her wand to regain order; Albus was too busy watching his carefully laid plans crash and burn around him. "Mr. Black, please tell us in your own words what happened on Halloween night, 1981."

"I went to see James and Lily at their hiding place in Godric's Hollow and found the house destroyed. Upon entering, I found James and Lily dead and Hagrid holding Harry. I was distraught, of course, but I knew Harry was my godson and he needed me, so I asked Hagrid to let me take him. Hagrid refused, saying he was under orders from Dumbledore to take Harry to his aunt. Seeing no other choice, I went after the traitor that had given up the secret. Pettigrew. I finally caught up with him on a street. He screamed at me, accusing me of betraying the Potters, then he hit me with an overpowered cheering charm, cut off his finger, and fired a blasting hex at the street, which hit a muggle gas line and caused it to explode. After that, Peter changed into his animagus form of a rat and escaped down the sewers. Aurors arrived and found me laughing, so they stunned me, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up inside Azkaban."

The members of the Wizengamot were furious. Sirius Black was one of their own, the pureblood scion of an Ancient and Noble house. If he could be thrown into Azkaban without a trial, would one of them be next? They wouldn't stand for it. Even Albus could see that. Amelia Bones nodded for the antidote to be administered, then she spoke. "All those in favor of declaring Sirius Black guilty?" Only a handful of wands lit up. "All those in favor of acquitting Sirius Black of all charges and releasing him forthwith?" The vast majority voted in favor of that. "So recorded. Sirius Black, you are hereby declared innocent, and you are now a free man. In addition, you will receive monetary compensation of 10,000 galleons for every year of your unjust imprisonment, for a total award of 80,000 galleons." She smiled. "Go, Mr. Black, with our apologies. There's a surprise waiting for you."

The chains released a confused Sirius Black, only for his eyes to widen as he spotted the strangely dressed Asian man and young boy who had just stood up in the gallery. The boy was a miniature James Potter with Lily's eyes. Suddenly Albus knew why the wards on Privet Drive had fallen. Some blasted muggle had come to the boy's rescue. Worse, he couldn't even do anything about it right there and then; he had to be seen as the Leader of the Light, and, curse it all, the Director of Magical Law Enforcement was right there, clearly approving of the two being in each other's company! As Sirius and Harry met in a tearful hug, Albus could do nothing but watch, outwardly serene, but inwardly wondering if there was any hope at all of salvaging his plans.

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><p><em><strong>The Daily Prophet<strong>_

_**August 2, 1989**_

_**SIRIUS BLACK DECLARED INNOCENT**_

_**TRUE BETRAYER REVEALED**_

_**WARRANT ISSUED FOR ARREST OF PETER PETTIGREW**_

_In a stunning verdict yesterday, Sirius Orion Black – long thought to be the man responsible for leading You-Know-Who to the Potter family on Halloween of 1981 – was found innocent after being tried and questioned under the influence of Veritaserum before the full body of the Wizengamot. Mr. Black revealed in his testimony that he was not the Potter family's secret keeper, as everyone had always believed. Rather, it was Peter Pettirew, who – it was revealed – had faked his death and framed Sirius Black for everything. How had he escaped? The answer is surprisingly simple._

_Peter Pettigrew was an illegal animagus, his animal form being that of a rat._

_It was Pettigrew who blew up the street after cutting off one of his fingers, then he simply transformed into a rat and fled down the sewers._

_Naturally, following the verdict, Peter Pettigrew's Order of Merlin, Third Class, was immediately revoked by the Wizengamot, and a warrant for his arrest was then issued. Citizens are advised to be alert for either a short, pudgy man with buck teeth in his late 20's to early 30's; or a particularly fat, ugly rat with one of its toes missing. The Ministry of Magic has offered a 500,000 galleon reward for his safe capture._

_A brief history of the Black family, page 3_

_Full trial transcript, page 5_

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><p><em><strong>Crawley<strong>_

_**Saotome residence**_

_**August 3, 1989**_

It was with some trepidation that Sirius Black entered the house his godson was now staying in, worried that he might not be welcome, but his fears were quickly put to rest as he was eagerly greeted with a running tackle-hug from a clearly very happy Harry Potter. An amused Ranma Saotome looked on as Sirius returned the hug, then the older man smiled at Ranma. "I understand I've you to thank for me finally getting my day in court."

Ranma waved it off. "Happy coincidence. But I am glad that we could finally see justice done, Mr. Black."

Sirius made a face. "Bleh, Mr. Black is my father. Please, call me Sirius."

Ranma grinned. "Sirius, then. Now, I'm given to understand that my adopted son here is a wizard. I've been teaching him martial arts, and have every intention of continuing to do so, but I can't train him in controlling his magic. That's why I invited you to come and stay with us, Sirius. I was hoping that – you being a wizard – you could handle that part of Harry's training."

Sirius blinked. "Me? Well, I…I suppose I could, but isn't this a muggle area?"

Ranma laughed a bit at that. "Oh, no need to worry about that. I've gotten special permission from the Ministry for magic to be used around the house. Also? I think the neighbor's daughter, Hermione Granger, might be a magic user as well; I caught her a few days ago floating a book down into her hands from a shelf that was too high for her to reach."

Sirius rubbed his bearded chin. "Hmm…yes, that definitely sounds like a bout of accidental magic. That will certainly bear watching." He then turned to Harry and grinned. "Well, then, Harry, I suppose I'll be tutoring you in using your magic properly when the time comes for you to acquire your own wand. In the meantime…what do you say to being introduced to the noble art of pranking?"

Suddenly Ranma wasn't so sure that inviting Sirius into their home was such a good idea after all.

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><p><em>Author's Note: And there goes Chapter 4. The plans of Albus Dumbledore continue to collapse as Sirius Black gets tried and released, and now we're all set for the pre-Hogwarts years. Next chapter, we'll be skipping ahead to 1991. The Harry who enters Hogwarts won't be the meek, pliable, timid little boy Albus was hoping for. This will be a Harry who takes no crap from anyone, especially not a certain greasy potions master. Tune in next time! Bye!<em>


	5. A Letter, an Alley, a Train, & a Sorting

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing but the plot, such as it is. Please refrain from suing, unless for some reason you just have a burning need to add to your collection of pocket lint.

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><p><em>(AN: I'm breaking in here to clarify something. As a reviewer pointed out, I may perhaps have not been totally clear last chapter and insinuated that Sirius Black was released to the public without being treated for his time in Azkaban. For those of you who thought that, I invite you to realize that Black was released from Azkaban on July 31__st__, but it wasn't until August 3__rd__ that he showed up to visit Harry. It was during those days that he was treated with a battery of potions and the best healers St. Mungo's has to offer, so don't worry, he's perfectly fine when he moves in with Harry and Ranma. Now, that being said, on with the next chapter!)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: A Letter, an Alley, a Train, a Castle, &amp; a Sorting<strong>

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><p><em><strong>July 31, 1991<strong>_

_**Crawley, West Sussex, England**_

_**Saotome residence**_

Harry Potter-Saotome awoke that morning with a special amount of excitement. Today he was officially 11 years old, which meant his letter from Hogwarts was due to arrive. He'd heard tales of the school from Sirius for the last two years, and in particular tales of the Marauders, or at least the three of them who weren't traitors.

The two years between Sirius Black's release and today had been quite a time for young Harry, and it had all started with an innocent-seeming question: "Why did my parents go into hiding in the first place?" Sirius had hemmed and hawed a bit, then finally admitted that he was pretty sure it had something to do with some prophecy or other. 'What kind of prophecy?' had been the natural follow-up question, and Sirius confessed that he didn't know, but that it was probably recorded in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. So the three of them had gone there and retrieved the prophecy orb, then given it a listen. It was all ridiculous tripe, in Ranma's opinion, with a thousand possible interpretations, but if the murder of Harry's parents and the attempted murder of Harry himself were any indication, then at the very least Voldemort seemed to believe it meant that Harry would have the power to kill him, which meant Harry would need to be prepared for an eventual confrontation, just in case the Dark Lord wasn't quite as dead as everyone believed.

His training had been a mix of martial arts and magic. True, he didn't have a wand of his own, but he could borrow and use Sirius's wand, provided Sirius was there to supervise. Harry had been trained in a spell arsenal largely focused on self-defense: shield charm, full body bind, leg-locker, tongue-locker, stunner, blasting hex, cutting curse, disarming charm, and a few others. As to his martial arts training, while it had only been two years, two years training under Ranma Saotome had proven to be quite a difference maker. It had helped that Ranma had had unexpected help in the form of Ryoga Hibiki, who had agreed with Ranma that the time for a childish grudge had come and gone. Of course, if Ryoga's help was unexpected, then it was a complete shocker for Happosai to show up and offer to help train the boy. Harry was now the fittest boy in his class; Ranma considered him a red belt, though Ranma's definition of red belt would probably have most martial arts masters wondering if perhaps his standards were too high.

When Ranma had begun instructing Harry in the rudiments of ki control, they'd both been surprised when Harry's magic had also responded to the exercises, resulting in a wandless levitation charm that had Ranma hovering a few inches off the floor. Sirius had been excited beyond belief; wandless magic was nearly unheard of for full-grown, fully trained _adult_ wizards, he explained, let alone a child that hadn't even obtained his wand yet. This, in turn, opened up a whole new area of Harry's magic training: wandless magic. He'd reached the point of being able to do a shield, a levitation charm, and a blasting hex wandlessly. The rest of his spells were somewhat erratic in their wandless use, either not responding at all or coming out with about three times more power than Harry had intended.

At any rate, that now brings us to today, Harry's eleventh birthday. Hopping out of his bed, he completed his morning ablutions, then headed downstairs, where Ranma – in female form – was in the middle of cooking breakfast, with Sirius sitting in the kitchen and chatting with the red-haired man-turned-woman. Harry joined him at the table, at which point Sirius produced a letter with a red wax seal on it. "This came for you in today's mail, Harry," Sirius had explained with a grin, offering him the letter. It was addressed to him, in green ink:

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><p><em><strong>Harry Potter-Saotome<strong>_

_**Crawley, West Sussex, England**_

_**Potter-Saotome residence**_

_**Second Floor Bedroom, First Door on the Right**_

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><p>'<em>They addressed it to my bedroom?<em>,' Harry wondered to himself. He looked to Sirius for an explanation. The old dog chuckled at his expression. "It's a charm," he explained. "Every child who displays magic is recorded and tracked by a special book at Hogwarts. When the time comes to send out the child's acceptance letter, the book is used to address them." Harry nodded, then opened up the letter and read it.

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><p><em>Dear Mr. Potter-Saotome,<em>

_It pleases me to inform you that you have been accepted as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on September 1__st__. Enclosed you will find a list of all supplies you will need for your first year at Hogwarts. Please send your reply by owl no later than August 31__st__._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

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><p>Harry glanced up at Sirius, who already had parchment and a calligraphy pen all ready to go. Harry grinned and took the items, then penned his response.<p>

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><p><em>Dear Professor McGonagall,<em>

_I would be delighted to attend. I've heard many stories about Hogwarts from my godfather, Sirius Black, these last two years, and I've been looking forward to seeing the place for myself. Therefore, I accept, and I shall see you in September._

_Signed,_

_Harry Potter-Saotome_

_11-year-old boy with no fancy title to impress people with_

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><p>He checked it over for errors, then nodded and handed it over to Sirius. Sirius glanced it over, then laughed a bit at how the boy had signed it, after which he called over his owl and sent it off to Hogwarts. Ranma finished breakfast by that time and brought it to the table, taking a seat after all three of them had been served. "I take it that was Harry's Hogwarts letter?," she guessed, directing the question to Sirius.<p>

Sirius nodded as he cut into his French toast. "Yes, which means we'll be needing to head to Diagon Alley after breakfast to get Harry's things. Naturally, a trip to Gringotts Bank is first on our list of places to visit. His parents left a great deal of money for him, starting with a trust vault that will take care of his expenses until he comes of age."

Harry nodded a bit. "So I can't touch the bulk of my parents' money until I turn 18."

"17," Sirius corrected him. "You come of age at 18 in the muggle world, but in the wizarding world, you're considered an adult at 17. The reason why is that that's when your magical core obtains the full extent of its natural power. Your magical core stabilizes enough for lessons in control at age 11, with further power boosts at 13, 15, and finally 17. Barring the use of Dark rituals to artificially increase your magical power, you'll be as powerful at 17 as you will be at 117. You see?" Harry nodded; he did see.

Ranma got it as well. "So first we go to this bank and get some of Harry's money out. I'd also like to ask some questions while we're there; I want to make sure there weren't any…_irregularities_, shall we say, in Harry's accounts following his illegal placement with the Dursleys." Sirius blinked, then nodded. He hadn't even thought of that.

Harry just ate his breakfast with a grin. This promised to be an exciting day.

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><p><em><strong>Diagon Alley<strong>_

_**July 31, 1991**_

As Harry, Sirius, and (a still female) Ranma emerged into the area out back of The Leaky Cauldron, Harry reflected that that had been an interesting experience. First he'd discovered first-hand exactly how famous that whole 'Boy-Who-Lived' rubbish had actually made him, and then he'd discovered that his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the coming year was a stuttering old mess of a man who reeked of garlic and appeared to be scared of his own shadow. '_I may have to teach the kids a few spells myself just to avoid them failing their exams at the end of the year_,' he thought to himself.

Sirius, meanwhile, drew his wand with a grin. "Well! Now that the unpleasant bit is over," he quipped. "Let's see now…three up and…two across, I believe." He tapped a brick in the wall before him with his wand. The brick wobbled, then began to open into a hole, which quickly widened into an archway leading into perhaps the most fantastic sight in Harry's young life.

"Welcome," Sirius exclaimed with a broad, expansive gesture through the archway, "to Diagon Alley!"

The trio proceeded through the archway and into the alley, and Harry could only stare, his head rotating on a swivel as he took in the sights. Magic was anywhere and everywhere, even in the shops. Magical pets, a place for robes, an apothecary, even an ancient wandmaker's shop. At the end of the alley, however, was their first destination: the gleaming white marble exterior of Gringotts Bank. Two odd little creatures in uniform stood guard outside. Harry didn't know what they were, but their entire bearing screamed that these were warriors that you picked a fight with only if you were feeling very tired of living.

"Those are goblins, Harry," whispered Sirius to Harry. "Very no-nonsense creatures, and often not too friendly with wizards and witches, but treat them with respect and you'll likely surprise them enough to give you respect in return." Harry nodded, though he'd already planned on being extra polite to these creatures. The three of them bowed slightly to the two guards outside. The goblins looked momentarily surprised, but recovered quickly and returned the bow, allowing the trio to approach the doors of the bank. Harry noticed a poem etched on the doors, the gist of which he understood to mean that only a damn fool would dare try to rob this place. Entering the bank, the three approached the first available teller.

"State your business," came the gruff greeting.

"I'd like to get out some money, please, and also ask for an accounting of all transactions since October 31, 1981, sir," came Harry's respectful response.

The goblin at the counter gazed at Harry for a moment. "Do you have your key?"

"I've got it," cut in Sirius, pulling it out of his pocket. "Glad I thought to collect this from Hagrid last year." He handed it over to the teller.

The goblin took the key and examined it, then nodded and turned. "Griphook!" Another goblin came over. "Take young Mr. Potter down to his trust vault for a withdrawal, then direct him to the Potter family account manager. That would be…Barchoke, I believe."

Griphook nodded and took the key, then came out from behind the counter. "This way, please." The goblin led them to a mine cart, which they all climbed into. The ride that followed reminded Harry very much of a roller coaster he'd recently been on, and resulted in a rather excited little boy. Eventually, they arrived at Vault 687 and climbed out. Once the vault was opened, Harry was gobsmacked at the sight before him. Ranma was likewise dumbfounded, but Sirius could only grin.

"This isn't even a fraction of what's waiting for you in your parents' vault, Harry," Sirius assured him, which left Harry stunned. Sirius chuckled, then nudged the boy forward. Recovering his senses, Harry took out a bucket and began filling it with coins while Sirius explained what each coin was and how many of each went into the next highest coin. After withdrawing about 500 galleons, a couple hundred sickles, and about a hundred knuts, they returned to the mine cart and rode it back up to the surface, after which they were led to the office of the Potter account manager, Barchoke. Griphook knocked on the door, then opened it and left, allowing the three of them to enter the office.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," greeted Barchoke. "I've been quite looking forward to this meeting. Have a seat, please. Your guardians as well." He gestures to the three seats in front of his desk. Ranma, Harry, and Sirius took their seats as instructed. Barchoke folded his long fingers on the desk and gazed at Harry. "First, let me offer my sincere condolences for the loss of your birth parents. I knew them both, very well I might add, and the Potters were always very respectful and kind towards me and the rest of the goblin nation. Be assured that we all felt their loss as deeply as anyone among the wizards and witches did. Now, that aside, what brings you to my office today?"

Harry took a breath, then replied. "Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Barchoke, sir. I'm here today because of concerns I have regarding my placement with the Dursley family ten years ago. I've come to find out that I was placed there against the express written wishes of my parents, and that this was allowed to happen because my parents' Will was sealed. Both of these acts were committed by one person: Albus Dumbledore. I want to make sure he hasn't been embezzling Potter funds under some delusion that he was my magical guardian when he clearly wasn't taking care of me in the slightest."

Barchoke nodded. "Rest assured that we take this kind of accusation very seriously. Just a moment, Mr. Potter, while I retrieve the relevant transaction history." Barchoke turned and dug around in a file cabinet, then pulled out a file and placed it on his desk, flipping it open to look through it. "Hmm…I see. Yes, it seems your concerns were well founded, Mr. Potter. I see here that Albus Dumbledore has been paying himself 5,000 galleons a month for your upkeep and care, when most magical guardians only receive that amount per _year_. This means that, from the time of your placement there until you were rescued by Mr. Saotome, Mr. Dumbledore managed to embezzle 450,000 galleons from the Potter accounts. A drop in the bucket compared to what's actually in there, true, but nevertheless, this act shall not go without being punished." Barchoke tapped a stone on his desk, which glowed red for a moment. Moments later, Griphook poked his head back in the door. "Griphook, I have discovered an irregularity in the Potter family's accounts. It seems one Albus Dumbledore has embezzled 450,000 galleons from their account under the pretense of being Harry's magical guardian. As this was clearly not the case, I am ordering a freeze on every account Albus Dumbledore has with Gringotts until the full amount is repaid, plus 10 years' worth of interest. At today's interest rates." Griphook grinned, then nodded and left.

Sirius winced, then chuckled. "Wow. What I'd give to be a fly on the wall in Dumbledore's office when he gets that bit of news."

Barchoke nodded, a savage grin on his face. "I take my position as the Potter account manager very seriously, and anyone who tries to make a fool of me will receive no sympathy from me. Not even Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

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><p><em><strong>Ollivander's – Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.<strong>_

_**July 31, 1991**_

The remainder of their trip had been a series of highlights, really. Harry had met a blond boy his age at Madam Malkins' Robes for All Occasions, and quickly decided the boy too much of a spoiled rich kid for his liking. He'd deflated the boy by the simple expedient of asking why his mother was looking at wands for him when the wand was for himself, not her. They had then gotten Harry's books at Flourish and Blotts, along with several others that looked interesting, including a series of books supposedly about Harry that had Sirius muttering threats about siccing an attorney on the publisher and author. They'd then swung by the apothecary, where Sirius had introduced himself as Lord Black and disdainfully commanded the clerk to supply Harry with the "Slytherin Special," which turned out to be a much more high quality potions kit from the one that was in the required supplies list. After that, they'd gone to get an owl, where Harry found himself drawn to a snowy white owl that he'd named Hedwig. That, finally, brought them to their last destination in the alley: Ollivander's.

Ollivander's shop was a study in contrasts from the rest of Diagon Alley. The place looked like it hadn't seen a proper cleaning since the day it was built, making it appear like a rather run-down hole-in-the-wall establishment compared to the others in the alley. But the place hadn't been around for over 2,400 years for nothing, they reasoned, so the trio had entered the place. Almost instantly, both Ranma and Harry spun around to face a darkened corner behind the door, Ranma with a ball of ki in her hand and Harry ready to cast a wandless Reducto if necessary. Sirius stared at them, startled, but then got startled again when a voice chuckled from that corner. Stepping out of the shadows was Ollivander himself. "Well done, Mr. Potter, and to you as well, Mr. Saotome. It isn't every day that someone can sense me through my notice-me-not charm, and especially for one of those someones to be a muggle. Yes, very well done, indeed." The wandmaker regarded Harry for a moment. "Harry Potter. Yes, I thought I'd be seeing you before long. You have the look of your father, but you have your mother's eyes." He surveys the rest of Harry for a moment. "Bit more fit than your father was at your age, though." He then gazes at Harry's scar, stepping forward to reach towards it. "And that's where…" He touches the scar with a finger, unnerving Harry with his closeness. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful. If I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" He stops, then sighs. "But never mind that. You didn't come here to listen to an old man's regrets. You came here to be fitted with a wand, so let us give it a try."

The next two hours were a blur as Harry tried nearly every wand in Ollivander's shop. He was beginning to despair of ever finding a match, when Ollivander seemed to have an idea. "I wonder…yes, why not…eleven and a half inches, holly and Phoenix feather. Give it a try."

Harry took the wand, and immediately he could feel that this was the one. Gold and red sparks flew from the tip in a brilliant display. Ollivander smiled. "Oh, well done, Mr. Potter, well done indeed! Hmm…curious, though…very curious…" He boxed up the wand, muttering "Curious…" to himself over and over. Noticing Harry's quizzical look, Ollivander explained. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. The Phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave up just one other feather. Just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother…why, its brother gave you that scar."

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><p><em><strong>King's Cross Station<strong>_

_**September 1, 1991**_

Harry had spent the month since getting back from Diagon Alley reading his books and practicing a few of his spells. Sirius was surprised and amazed at the power Harry was displaying at such a young age; he could even perform a summoning charm, which Sirius explained was normally not learned until their third year.

Lest anyone be concerned, there were no notifications about underage magic use. Sirius Black – an adult wizard – was documented as living there, so the Ministry simply wasn't monitoring the house for magic use.

Harry arrived early, dressed in his own version of Ranma's signature red and black Chinese silks. In lieu of standard glasses, he was wearing a special pair of sports glasses, with the temples replaced with loops that went around the ears to prevent them falling off in a fight. After sharing good-byes with his adoptive father and his godfather, Harry followed Sirius's instructions to pass through the barrier and arrive on the platform, where he spotted the gleaming crimson train, the Hogwarts Express. He also spotted a very familiar head of bushy brown hair, and a grin spread across his face. "Hermione!" He pushed his trolley towards her at a run.

Hermione turned at the voice, then grinned at seeing who it was. "Harry!" The two met in a hug. The two had become very good friends in the two years since becoming neighbors. Hermione had been very pleasantly surprised when Sirius had explained to her and her parents two years ago that she was a witch, Harry was a wizard, and eventually they would be attending a school of magic together. When her parents had asked for proof, Sirius had drawn his wand and turned himself yellow. That had a very wide-eyed Granger family thoroughly convinced that Sirius was telling the truth. An interesting side benefit was that the bullying Hermione had been put through came to a crashing halt. The first boy to call Hermione a 'bossy know-it-all' in Harry's presence had been decked in the jaw, hard, and then further pummeled until the boy had finally been pulled off by a teacher. When the teacher had demanded that Harry explain himself, Harry had turned it around by demanding to know when insults and bullying became acceptable behavior among the students of the school, and that if nothing was done to punish the boy who had called Hermione a bossy know-it-all, Harry would go straight over the principal's head to the school board. That had done the trick; the school had promptly cracked down on bullying, and anyone caught doing so was automatically expelled.

Pulling back from the hug, Harry looked his friend over. "Got all your things, then, Hermione? I assume you've read all the books backwards and forwards and you're looking forward to crushing us mere mortals who have the nerve to possess an IQ under 200." His teasing grin took the sting out of his words, prompting a blushing Hermione to punch him lightly in the arm.

"Come along, then, Harry, I was just about to find a compartment." Hermione and Harry boarded the train together. After locating a compartment and stowing their trunks, a shy, chubby boy poked his head in.

"Um…h-have you two seen a toad, by any chance?," he asked timidly. "He's mine. His name's Trevor, and, um, I seem to have lost him. Oh, and I'm Neville Longbottom, by the way."

Hermione shook her head. Harry just grinned. "You said his name is Trevor?" Neville shyly nodded. Harry drew his wand, then pointed towards the compartment door. "_Accio Trevor the toad!_" Moments later, a fat toad came floating through the doorway, landing gently in Neville's hands. Neville and Hermione were both wide-eyed.

"Harry!," Hermione exclaimed. "That's a third year charm you just used! Just how powerful are you?"

Harry just grinned at her. Neville thanked Harry profusely, but Harry wouldn't hear of it. "Don't worry about it, Neville. Your mother was my godmother, actually; if things had been different, you and I would've been raised as brothers. I'm Harry Potter, and I'd like to be your friend." He offered a handshake, which a stunned Neville eagerly accepted before floating off on Cloud 9.

Hermione giggled. "I think you just made that boy's year, Harry."

Harry shrugged, sighing theatrically. "I know. Why must I be so unendingly awesome?"

Hermione giggled even harder at that. Eventually, the two sat and talked about this and that. A few minutes before the train was due to depart, the compartment door slid open, revealing a red-haired boy with dirt on his nose. "Um…sorry, but would you two mind if I sat with you? Everywhere else is full."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, then nodded to the boy, who gratefully entered and stowed his trunk before taking a seat. "Phew…thanks for that. I was starting to think I'd have to spend the trip sitting on my trunk in the corridor. Oh, my name's Ron, Ron Weasley."

"Hermione Granger."

"Harry Potter."

Ron's eyes went wide. "Are you really? So do you have the…the…" He pointed to his own forehead. Harry smiled indulgently and lifted his bangs, revealing the lightning bolt shaped scar. "Wicked," came Ron's whispered exclamation.

The conversation shifted from there to small talk. Ron mentioned that his family used to have a pet rat, but after the article about Sirius Black's trial came out in the _Daily Prophet_ two years ago, Percy had stunned the rat and asked his father to cast the animagus reveal spell. Upon his doing so, they'd discovered that "Scabbers" was actually Peter Pettigrew. The reward the Weasleys got for his capture was sufficient to allow everyone in the family – including himself and, next year, his little sister – to get all new things for school instead of the hand-me-downs they'd gotten used to. Ron had even gotten his own owl, a hyper little thing named Pigwidgeon. Harry was regaling the two of them with the story of how they'd gotten Sirius Black his trial in the first place when their compartment door slid open, revealing the blond boy Harry had met in the robe shop and two great gorilla-like lumps of humanity that Harry amusedly decided were supposed to be bodyguards.

"They're saying all over the train that Harry Potter is on board and coming to Hogwarts," he began imperiously. His eyes settled on Harry. "It's you, isn't it? We never got around to introductions last time." He introduced his bookends. "This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle. And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron Weasley tried very hard to disguise his laugh as a cough, but didn't quite succeed. Draco glared at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask you yours. That red hair and substandard robe could only belong to a Weasley." Ron's face and ears reddened in anger, but Draco ignored him, instead gazing at Harry. "You'll soon find some wizarding families are better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He extended his hand.

Harry gazed at him for a long moment, then calmly stood up, took Draco's hand…and twisted his arm around into a very painful arm bar, resulting in a very unmanly squeal of pain from Draco. "No family is 'better' than another family, _Malfoy_," he informs the blond boy coldly. "The idea that such a thing as 'better' exists is the reason my parents are currently dead and buried instead of waiting at home for me to return from my first term at Hogwarts. You and people like you embody everything that is wrong with wizarding society, and if I have to fix it by correcting you one at a time, then _so be it_." He directs his glare at Crabbe and Goyle. "How about you two? Want to see if a pair of untrained gorillas can take on the vanquisher of Voldemort? I'm right here. Take the first swing. _I dare you to_."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, then did perhaps the smartest thing they will ever do in their lives: They turned tail and fled. Harry returned his gaze to Draco. "Let me be as clear as I possibly can. Until you can come around to accepting the idea that being a pureblood doesn't automatically make you better than others, you and I will never be friends. In point of fact, I'll be talking to my godfather about your behavior towards me and my friends in my first letter home. You may have heard of him. His name is Sirius Black, Lord and Head of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. You know, the family your mother came from?" He gave Draco a moment to digest that, then continued. "You're going to leave and return to your compartment now. Think very hard about how you interact with me in the future; your future may very well depend on it." He releases his hold on Draco with a shove, then slams the compartment door closed and returns to his seat, plopping down with a sigh.

Several moments later, Ron was the first of his two friends to find his voice: "Bloody hell."

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><p><em><strong>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry<strong>_

_**The Great Hall – Sorting Ceremony**_

_**September 1, 1991**_

The Sorting ceremony went as normal, pretty much, until the inevitable happened. Professor McGonagall called the next name on her list. "Harry Potter-Saotome."

As Harry stepped forward towards the Sorting Hat, the whispers began at once.

"Did she say Potter?"

"_THE_ Harry Potter?"

"Potter-_Saotome_? What's that about?"

"I thought he'd be taller."

Harry barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes at that last one, then took a seat on the stool as the hat was placed on his head.

"Hmm…difficult, very difficult," the Hat murmured into his ear. "You've courage enough for Gryffindor, true, but you're also very loyal and a firm believer in hard work, like a Hufflepuff. You've certainly got the brains for Rowena's house, and, oh yes, a strong urge to prove yourself. Slytherin could use someone like you-"

Harry interrupted the Hat. "Apologies, Hat, but if you put me in Slytherin, I can assure you the House will be more concerned about a body count than any kind of point system before the week is out."

The Hat conceded the point. "True, true, I can see your interaction with young Mr. Malfoy. Were it not for him and others of his ilk, you could do great things indeed for Slytherin. You're sure I can't convince you? No? Very well, then. Better be…GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted out for the whole Great Hall to hear. Three fourths of the hall erupted into cheers, particularly at the Gryffindor table, where Ron's older twin brothers stood up and started dancing, chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry removed the Sorting Hat and stood up, handing it back to Professor McGonagall, then headed over to the Gryffindor table to take a seat next to Hermione. A bit later, with Ron Weasley eventually Sorted into Gryffindor as well and joining his friends at the table, Dumbledore stood to address the students.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he greets them. "Before we begin the welcoming feast, I would just like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He then sat down, leaving a few students wondering if the old man was senile, then the food appeared. Harry resolved to keep an eye on the old man, but also on the greasy-haired hook-nosed Head of Slytherin House that was glaring at him from the head table.

Yes, this promised to be a very entertaining year indeed.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Holy crap, this chapter just took off on me! I was not expecting over 5,000 words to come out of this one, and I'm not entirely certain I'll ever be able to repeat the feat, so don't get used to seeing it. Well. Leave a review, please, and I hope I don't totally disappoint you with the next chapter after banging out this big beastie. See you next time! Bye!<em>


	6. The First Week

**DISCLAIMER:** If I have to tell you by now that I don't own these character, then I would suggest that you need to re-read the first five chapters.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: The First Week<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Gryffindor Common Room<strong>_

Harry sat himself down in a chair near the fireplace, reflecting on what he'd heard and learned following the Welcoming Feast. Albus Dumbledore saying that the third floor corridor on the right hand side was out of bounds 'to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death' was incredibly suspect in both its wording and its content. Firstly, that a school headmaster would keep something dangerous inside a school full of children suggested a lack of concern for the welfare of the younger generation that was typically only seen in the most depraved of sociopaths, and Harry was left wondering why none of the teachers at the head table had called him on it. Secondly, by wording the warning in that particular fashion, he'd presented it more like a challenge than a warning. Harry had no doubt that students would be trying to get into it anyway; frankly, he only wondered if it would be during the first week or the second when they would start trying.

'_Oh, well_,' he thought to himself. '_Classes start tomorrow. Hopefully I'll get a better idea of what Hogwarts is truly like when I actually start taking lessons. On first blush, though? I'm wondering if I should start looking into attending a different school. But we'll give Hogwarts a chance to impress me first. If they fail, it's time to bring the hammer down._'

His decision made, he stood up and headed off to bed.

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><p><em><strong>Potions Classroom<strong>_

_**The Dungeons**_

_**Professor: Severus Snape, Potions Master, Head of Slytherin House**_

As the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years filed into the Potions classroom down in the dungeons, Harry sat with his two friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. After hearing from some of the older Gryffindors what the Potions professor was like, Harry was glad he'd already read and memorized his Potions textbook for the year and a handful of other Potions texts. Suddenly, the door banged open, admitting the glowering bat-like form of Severus Snape, who stalked to the front of the classroom as all talking immediately ceased.

Snape spun to face the classroom, his robes billowing, then he gazed at them all and began. "This is your Potions class. I am the professor, Severus Snape. I am here to teach you the exact art and subtle science of potions making. As there is little foolish wand-waving in this class, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will appreciate the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death…if you aren't as big a bunch of _dunderheads_ as I usually have to teach."

With that thought, Snape began to take roll. He paused on reaching Harry's name. "Harry Potter. Our new…_celebrity_."

Harry felt the need to say something. "Begging your pardon, sir, but as I am famous for being orphaned the night my parents were murdered by a raving madman with delusions of grandeur, I can assure you I take no pleasure at all in being so widely known. Were I given a choice in the matter, I would much prefer to be a completely anonymous boy with his birth parents waiting patiently at home for his return. As nobody asked for my opinion before someone pointed the Dark Lord in my family's direction, however, I am instead left to sit here in a Potions classroom and be sneered at for my unfortunate fame by someone who is supposed to be _a teacher_."

Snape glared at the boy. "For your cheek, Mr. Potter, that will be 20 points from-"

Harry interrupted him. "Continue with that statement, _Professor_, and I will see the deduction reviewed by the Deputy Headmistress, with a pensieve memory to back up my account. If necessary, I will even submit to testimony under Veritaserum. I am confident that I am in the right here. Can you say the same?"

Snape's glare intensified, as if he could reduce Harry to ashes just by staring at him. Harry couldn't have cared less, though, and eventually Snape just continued taking roll, leaving Harry's classmates to stare at him with incredulity and disbelief.

After finishing up the roll, Snape glared at the class. "Potter!," the man said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

If Harry was fazed by the sudden question, he didn't show it. He simply raised an eyebrow, peering at Snape in a judging silence for a moment, then he answered, using the kind of speech normally reserved for talking to someone who is perhaps a little slow. "…You're asking me a question from the end of the third year Potions syllabus and expecting me not to know that it creates a powerful sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death." A lopsided grin appeared on Harry's face. "Trying to make yourself feel better by embarrassing me, Professor?"

Snape's face purpled with anger at being caught out by an 11-year-old. The son of that stupid James Potter, no less! He sneered at the boy, determined to put him in his place. "Typical Potter. No respect for anyone but yourself. Just like your father."

Harry merely tilted his head in apparent confusion. "Just like my father? That's odd. Sirius is always telling me that I'm much more like my mother. Considering he's known me for two years whereas you have known me for about ten minutes, I'm more inclined to believe him than you. Sir."

That piece of information brought Severus up short. Might there be some truth to the boy's claim? Might he have inherited more from Lily than just her eyes, despite what outward appearances would indicate? He took a mental step back and reviewed the events of the class so far. He was forced to concede the point; Lily would have taken to task any professor who behaved towards her in the manner he had towards Harry.

Just like Harry had.

As the realization became visible on Snape's face, Harry spoke again, quietly. "I'm not my father, Professor. I'm not my mother, either. I'm just Harry, and I'm here to learn about magic. Shouldn't that be all there is to it?"

Snape studied the boy, looking thoughtful. Finally, he spoke. "Your first assignment for this year will be to create a simple boil-curing potion." He waved his wand at the chalkboard. "The instructions are on the board. You may assist each other if you like – _quietly_ – but you will each turn in a potion at the end of the class. You may begin." He then moved behind his desk and sat down, a thoughtful look replacing his usual sneer for the rest of the class as he watched Harry brew and assist the girl and the Weasley boy seated to either side of him. '_Like his mother_,' he mused. '_Perhaps the boy is right. James Potter is dead…and Lily would have my hide if she saw me treating her boy with anything other than the respect he is due_.' Snape nodded and sat back, determined to shift his mental focus to thinking of Harry as Lily's son instead of the second coming of James Bloody Potter.

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><p><em><strong>Transfiguration Classroom<strong>_

_**Professor: Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House**_

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger might very well have been late to class if it hadn't been for Harry dragging them both there by hand. As the trio settled into their chosen seats, Harry took notice of the orange cat perched on the teacher's desk. An eyebrow raising, he met the cat's gaze, then smiled a secretive sort of smile that told the cat she was busted.

As soon as it became time for class to begin, the cat leapt off the desk, transforming in mid-leap into the stern figure of Professor Minerva McGonagall. The teacher studied Harry for a moment as the class went deathly quiet, then she nodded. "Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for realizing that the cat was actually me. But if you don't mind me asking, how did you know it was me?"

Harry smirked at her. "Magic," he quipped. After the professor huffed, Harry giggled, then spoke again. "Actually, it was a bit of martial arts knowledge my dad taught me. You can change your body, sure enough, but your energy signature remains the same, regardless of your form. I recognized it from the Sorting ceremony."

The professor nodded, then got herself back on track. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will perform at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She then turned, drawing her wand, and Transfigured her desk into a pig and back again. Naturally, many students gasped. Professor McGonagall continued as matchsticks were being handed out to each student. "Your first lesson will be to Transfigure a matchstick into a needle and back again. Everyone, follow along with me. These are the wand movements and the incantation."

Professor McGonagall walked the students through performing the spell, then told them they would have the rest of the class period to accomplish this first Transfiguration. Harry and Hermione both got it in two tries, but a frustrated Ron could only seem to manage adding a point to the end of his matchstick. Frowning, Harry extended a hand towards Ron. "Excuse me, Ron, can I see your wand for a minute? I wanna check something." Ron hesitated, then reluctantly put his wand in Harry's hand. Harry examined it carefully, then nodded and looked up at the teacher, raising his hand. At the professor's inquiring look, Harry spoke. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor, but I just noticed that Ron isn't using a wand that chose him. This one is old and all full of nicks and dents; he probably got it from an older family member. I don't think he's going to have much success in this class until he can get down to Mr. Ollivander's shop and obtain a wand of his own."

Ron's face and ears reddened as Professor McGonagall gazed at him. "Is this true, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron mumbled his answer, "We couldn't afford to get me all new things, so everything I have is a hand-me-down."

Harry nodded. "In that case, Ron, as your friend, I'd like to take you down to Diagon Alley and buy you a new wand of your own. Call it a birthday present." He turned to the teacher. "If we have your permission, that is?"

McGonagall hesitated, then nodded. "I will accompany the two of you to Ollivander's shop after dinner tonight. You will meet me in the Entrance Hall not later than 6:30. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," came the chorused reply.

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><p><em><strong>Charms classroom<strong>_

_**Professor: Filius Flitwick, half-goblin, Master Duelist, Head of Ravenclaw House**_

The new day of classes found a grinning Ron Weasley with his very own wand – 14" long, willow, with a core of unicorn hair. It was with this new wand that Professor Flitwick was walking them through the Wingardium Leviosa charm.

Ron performed the swish and flick motion. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" The feather rocketed up like it was trying to achieve orbit and embedded itself in the ceiling of the classroom, causing a very surprised Flitwick to fall off his stack of books with a squeak.

Harry eyed the feather as Ron blushed mightily. "Perhaps you should throttle back a hair on the power there, Ron," he commented blithely, causing Ron to do his impression of a red-haired tomato. Hermione was trying very hard to suppress her giggles and not having much success.

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><p><em><strong>Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom<strong>_

_**Professor: Quirinus Quirrell, stuttering coward, host to a certain wraith, owner of much garlic**_

The first hint Harry had that something was wrong was when the DADA teacher entered the classroom and a searing pain began in his scar. Hissing, Harry brought a hand up to rub at it, wondering what in the world was going on.

'_Alright, self, time for a little self-diagnosis_,' he thought to himself, then closed his eyes and sank into a meditative trance. It was only five minutes later that his eyes flew open in shock. He shot to his feet, drawing his wand in the process, then pointed it at Professor Quirrell. "_Expelliarmus! Silencio! Stupefy! Incarcerous!_" Professor Quirrell found himself disarmed, silenced, stunned, and bound before he could even stutter out a shield spell. As the students stared at Harry in shock, Harry simply kept his wand trained on Quirrell.

Hermione was the first to find her voice. "Harry, what-?"

"Get the Headmaster, Hermione," Harry rasped. "This teacher is possessed, and I think it's Voldemort." The entire class gasped in shocked horror. Hermione, her own eyes widening in horror, nodded at once and fled from the room.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Okay, now some of you are already asking, "Is heshe really going to end this story after half a dozen chapters or so?" Rest assured, dear readers, there's a lot of story still left. After all, Hogwarts isn't the only school of magic in the world. Right? Tune in next time! Bye!_


	7. House of Cards

**DISCLAIMER:** Still not mine.

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><p><em>(AN: It was brought to my attention that I brought up a pretty noticeable plot hole in the last chapter. Namely, I had Ron with hand-me-down things when in a previous chapter I'd mentioned that he had all new things as a result of his family capturing Peter Pettigrew. I'm not at all sure how to fix it, quite frankly, so I'm just going to leave it as is, as a reminder to myself to avoid such a dunderheaded blunder in the future.)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: House of Cards<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Ministry of Magic<strong>_

_**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**_

_**Director's Office**_

_**September 9, 1991**_

The apprehension of a teacher possessed by Voldemort had quickly become front page news all across magical Britain, particularly since he was apprehended by none other than The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Quirrelmort – as he was being called lately in the _Daily Prophet_ – was currently in the hands of the Unspeakables.

And that would bring us to the morning of September 9th, where a very interesting assemblage of people could be found in the office of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement.

There was Ranma Saotome, a muggle, but arguably one of the most powerful warriors on the planet. There was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. There was also Lord Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was there as well, not to mention Unspeakable Croaker. Also present was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, whose list of titles was even longer than his list of names, and, of course, the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. Amelia was peering at Dumbledore as if she was looking at the remains of a recently squashed bug, while Dumbledore was squirming slightly in his seat.

"…Let me see if I've got this straight," came Amelia's voice at last. "One of your teachers – your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, no less – was possessed by Voldemort. You – a man purported to be the greatest wizard since Merlin – claim that you were unaware of this. However, upon searching the school, my Aurors found not only a Cerberus on the third floor, but also an arrangement of puzzles that a first year student could bypass, at the end of which was found the Philosopher's Stone, concealed within yet another item that has no business being in a school, the Mirror of Erised. You have offered no explanation for any of this, although my Head Auror informs me that this arrangement seems very likely to have been intended as a trap for Voldemort, who – since he is apparently not quite as dead as all of us believed – would desire the Philosopher's Stone very much. All of this in a school full of _children_, and yet all you can tell me is that the Stone was perfectly safe, thank you very much, and why are we all wasting the Ministry's time with such nonsense." She smacked both hands onto her desk, the loud noise startling most of them, then she shot to her feet. "Albus Dumbledore, you have endangered the lives of hundreds of students – _CHILDREN_ – with your actions! The safety of the Stone, I assure you, is very much a secondary concern."

Cornelius Fudge spoke up at that point. "My office has been inundated with Howlers at this point, most of them from parents threatening to withdraw their children from Hogwarts to seek education elsewhere. The most damning Howler of all, though, came from that man – Sirius Black." He gestured at the man in question. "Lord Black has informed me in no uncertain terms that Harry Potter is withdrawing from Hogwarts to seek education in America, and I am reliably informed that his two best friends will be going with him. The public is already in a furor over this, and that's only going to get even worse when it becomes known that the Boy Who Lived has left Hogwarts. Magical Britain has become an international laughingstock, and all of it is your fault, Dumbledore!"

Unspeakable Croaker was next to speak. "Mr. Potter. I was wondering if you would permit me to examine that scar of yours. Your story that it began to burn when in the presence of Voldemort concerns me, particularly since you have stated that you believe there is a connection of some sort between your scar and him." Harry glanced at each of his guardians, who nodded. Harry then nodded to the Unspeakable, who got up and scanned the boy with his wand. Croaker then cursed under his breath. "It is as I feared. The boy is a horcrux. A piece of Voldemort's soul is lodged in that scar. Mr. Potter, I know of a goblin healer who may be able to help. With your permission, before you leave for America, I would like you to let him examine you and see if the horcrux can be removed without harming you."

Dumbledore blinked, visibly taken aback. "The goblins know how to destroy a horcrux without destroying its container?"

Croaker turned to Dumbledore. "So I am reliably informed, yes."

Amelia blinked as the pieces fell into place. "…That was why you set up that trap. You wanted Harry Potter to reach Voldemort, so that Voldemort could kill Harry, satisfying the prophecy and enabling you to kill Voldemort yourself."

Dumbledore paled. "You know of the prophecy?"

Amelia nodded, her stern gaze directed squarely at Dumbledore. "Indeed. I was escorting Mr. Potter, Mr. Saotome, and Lord Black to the Department of Mysteries two years ago to hear the prophecy in question, as per Lord Black's request. It stated that essentially Harry Potter was to be the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, and considering that this prophecy was given in late 1979, I'm left to wonder why he was left in the home of abusive muggles instead of being sent to a Light-aligned magical family to receive the training he would surely need."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, you see, it was a chaotic time, Amelia. We had no way of knowing who was truly Light or not. I felt it best-"

"You felt it best," Amelia interrupted, "to ignore the late Potters' will and send their orphaned child to the one family they _did not_ want him to go to. Lord Black had not yet gone in pursuit of Peter Pettigrew when young Harry was orphaned, and yet when he attempted to claim his godson, your man Rubeus Hagrid was already there, stating he was under orders to give the boy to you. Frank and Alice Longbottom weren't attacked until days _after_ the attack on the Potters, yet they weren't given custody of young Harry. Augusta Longbottom was on the list of possible guardians, yet she wasn't even considered. Minerva McGonagall was even on the list of possible guardians. _As was I_. Are you honestly going to sit there and tell us all that you truly believed on Halloween of 1981 that Lord Black, the Longbottoms, Professor McGonagall, and me were all secretly spies for the Death Eaters? If that is your accusation, you had better produce evidence, or else I'll see you in chains and loaded to the gills with Veritaserum to find the real truth of why you did what you did."

They were interrupted by an amused chuckle from the only muggle in the room, Ranma Saotome. "Wow, you people. It's so obvious. Good ol' Stumblemore over there wanted Harry untrained so Voldemort could kill him, satisfying the prophecy and leaving the way open for the old man to claim all the glory for himself. I've read the history. Albus and his Order of the Kentucky Fried Chicken was losing the war – badly. The Ministry was weeks from falling completely, maybe even days. And then here comes a boy – barely even a year old – who destroys Voldemort's body and brings an end to the war. That really must've rankled, for Albus Too Many Names And Titles Dumbledore, the vanquisher of Grindelwald, to be outdone by a toddler. But he couldn't be seen as anything other than the Leader of the Light, of course, so he assured everyone that he knew what was best, for the Greater Good." He leaned forward, peering at Dumbledore with a smirk. "Odd that you would choose that particular phrase, old man, as I seem to recall from my reading that 'for the Greater Good' was a phrase Grindelwald often used to justify all the heinous acts he committed."

Amelia scowled as that information made all the rest make sense. "Well, then, it would appear all your plans have toppled like a house of cards. Aurors! Arrest Albus Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore stood and called out, "Fawkes!" But to Dumbledore's shock, his phoenix did not appear.

Croaker chuckled. "Did I neglect to mention that a squad of my Unspeakables already broke the Dark rituals you were using to bind that bird to yourself? He won't be coming to your rescue. Instead, he'll be searching for the wizard he was actually meant to be partnered with."

Suddenly, there was a flash of flames in the room, and Fawkes appeared. To the surprise of them all, however, he flew over and landed on the shoulder of Ranma Saotome, trilling a song of triumph and happiness. Croaker blinked. "…Or I could be partially wrong and he will choose to become the familiar to a muggle. Astounding."

Aurors flooded into the room at that point, quickly disarming a stunned Dumbledore and slapping magic restraining cuffs on the old man's wrists before escorting him out of the office.

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><p><em><strong>The Daily Prophet<strong>_

_**September 10, 1991**_

_**DUMBLEDORE ARRESTED**_

_**HARRY POTTER LEAVES HOGWARTS**_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_In a shocking turn of events yesterday, Albus Dumbledore was placed under arrest for endangering the lives of countless students, in addition to deliberately ignoring the will of the late James and Lily Potter and setting their orphaned son up to die at the hands of You-Know-Who. The International Confederation of Wizards was quick to sack Dumbledore from his position as Supreme Mugwump upon hearing of these charges, and a vote is due this afternoon to oust the man from his post as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. It goes without saying that he was of course fired from the post of Headmaster at Hogwarts, the position falling instead to Minerva McGonagall, with Filius Flitwick filling the Deputy Headmaster slot._

_These changes unfortunately appear to be too little, too late. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is leaving Hogwarts, along with his two best friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, the latter of whom shall be joined by the rest of his family. They are choosing instead to continue their education in America._

"_I just don't feel like magical Britain is safe anymore," stated young Harry when asked why he was leaving. "So instead my friends and I will be going to one of the magical schools in America. I'm not going to say which one, though. I've no desire to be mailed constantly by people begging me to come back, or by people sending me Howlers for having the audacity to leave. I'm tired of being the Boy Who Lived. I just want to be Harry, and America, I feel, is my best chance at doing so."_

_The Daily Prophet and its staff wish Mr. Potter and his friends all the best as they start a new life in the States._

_In the meantime, we at the Daily Prophet will keep our readers up to date on the outcome of the imminent trial of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore._

_A short bio of Harry Potter, page 3_

_The life and times of Albus Dumbledore, page 5_

_Curriculum changes at Hogwarts, page 10_

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><p><em>Author's Note: And that does it for Chapter 7. In the next chapter, we will pick up with the Golden Trio's arrival at their new school in America. OC's are, of course, going to be the order of the day, but I'm sure you all expected that. Tune in next time! Bye!<em>


	8. A New Start

**DISCLAIMER:** Still not mine.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: A New Start<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Seattle School of Sorcery &amp; Science<strong>_

_**Principal's Office**_

_**September 15, 1991**_

When Ranma Saotome, Sirius Black, and Harry Potter-Saotome met in the principal's office to meet with the new ruling authority over Harry's carefully selected new school, the first impression they had of 97-year-old Michelle Dunn was that she and Amelia Bones were two formidable women who were cut from the same cloth. Looking to be only in her 50's, with blonde hair only just beginning to turn gray, she gave off an aura of command and power that was only matched in Sirius Black's mind by Albus Dumbledore. Standing from behind her desk, the woman offered handshakes to the two men, then a smile to Harry before gesturing the three to the seats in front of her desk. Once all three were seated, Sirius began the meeting. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with us, Principal Dunn."

The woman nodded. "You're very welcome, Lord Black, and thank you for your interest in this humble little school of ours. I understand young Harry is coming here because of concerns about his safety at Hogwarts?"

Ranma snorted. "That might be the most diplomatic way of puttin' it I've ever heard. Between a teacher possessed by Voldemort and a Headmaster who was tryin' to get Harry killed by the guy to fulfill some stupid prophecy, 'concerns about his safety' has gotta be the understatement of the century."

Principal Dunn gave a nod. "Yes, I recall reading about that in the papers. Mr. Dumbledore's downfall was quite spectacular."

It was only two days ago that Albus Dumbledore's trial had taken place, before the full body of the Wizengamot. Under the influence of Veritaserum and the expert questioning of Director Amelia Bones, Dumbledore had revealed the full extent of his duplicity. Unknown to everyone, he had actually been the lover of Gellert Grindelwald. They both believed in Grindelwald's "Greater Good" philosophy, but Albus had believed that it was far better to take over through love rather than fear. This was what had led him to slaying Grindelwald – not in an epic duel to the death, but rather with a non-verbal, wandless _Diffindo_ to the neck, from behind. As there had been no witnesses to this act, it had been easy for Dumbledore to spin his tale, earning the love and admiration of magical Britain and thereby acquiring three powerful positions: Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and Headmaster of Hogwarts, on top of which he had received an Order of Merlin, First Class. He had planned to slowly undermine the Minister of Magic's position, eventually persuading the Wizengamot to abolish the position entirely. Unfortunately, his plans had been derailed by the emergence of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and the need to contain him so that there would still be a magical Britain left to rule. His plans were further derailed by a prophecy given by Sybil Trelawney, which meant that Albus Dumbledore could not, in fact, be the one to defeat Voldemort until the prophecy was fulfilled. So he had formed a new plan, a plan that was elegant in its simplicity.

Arrange for Voldemort to find and then kill the child of prophecy, clearing the way for Dumbledore to finish the man off and once again earn the love and admiration of the people.

What he hadn't counted on was for "that blasted muggleborn wench" Lily Potter to have delved so deeply into blood magic rituals, finding one that would ensure her child's safety and protection from dark magic in return for the sacrifice of her life. The ritual worked: When Voldemort turned his wand on 15-month-old Harry and cast _Avada Kedavra_, the curse rebounded, destroying Voldemort's body and inadvertently turning the boy into a horcrux. He had been almost smug when he'd mentioned that "for Voldemort to die, Harry Potter must die as well," but he'd been shocked when Director Bones had revealed that goblin healers had already seen to young Harry, destroying the horcrux in the boy's scar without harming Harry at all.

Relations with the goblins had improved exponentially once it became public knowledge that their healers had ensured that their savior wouldn't be required to die to end the threat of Voldemort.

Dumbledore had planned on destroying the boy and Voldemort, using the Weasley family to acquire the Potter fortune by secretly slipping Harry and the Weasleys' youngest, Ginny, love potions that would gradually bring them together as a couple, with Harry coming to think of Albus as a mentor and surrogate grandfather, ensuring that he would be bequeathed the Potter fortune in Harry's will, which he would use to fund his eventual takeover of magical Britain and go down in history as the greatest wizard since Merlin.

In the end, he was found guilty of insurrection, conspiracy to use illegal love potions, conspiracy to commit Line Theft, child abuse, child neglect, and conspiracy to commit murder. He was promptly sentenced to – and subsequently thrown through – the Veil of Death.

Sirius Black cleared his throat. "Yes, I just had a few questions about your school. On your list of required courses, I noticed one called 'Magiscience'. What is that, exactly?"

Principal Dunn smiled. "Magiscience is the study of ways to allow technology to function in the presence of magic. Researchers in our government's Department of Mysteries began this study by discovering a special shielding process that protects sensitive electronics from faltering when exposed to magic, based on the mundane technology that protects electronics from an electromagnetic pulse. It is because of this field that we have computers here in the school. We are always keeping abreast of developments in mundane society, and when new technology becomes available, we immediately set to work figuring out how to make it work in a magical environment." She regards Harry. "So do not be surprised if you see some of your fellow students with a handheld video game system, like a Game Boy, or with a Walkman tape player."

Harry had a question. "You say you have computers here. Does that mean I won't need quills or parchment here, ma'am?"

The woman chuckled. "Oh my, no, of course you won't need them. We are always willing to accept a homework assignment printed from a computer, and as for classwork, you may feel free to use pens or pencils and regular notebook paper as appropriate."

Harry grinned at her. "That's great. I had a heck of a time learning how to write with a quill those first few days at Hogwarts."

Ranma leaned forward. "How's the security here? If this Voldemort character happens to escape from that holding cell in the bowels of England's Department of Mysteries, how safe will Harry be here at your school?"

Principal Dunn gave Ranma a smile that was equal parts feral and indulgent. "The wards here at Seattle School of Sorcery & Science are second to none. They make the wards at Hogwarts and even Gringotts look like a fledgling effort from a beginner. For instance, I knew the moment you all set foot on the grounds that you, Mr. Saotome, bear a curse from Jusenkyo that transfigures your body into a different gender when exposed to different temperatures of water, and that you, Mr. Black, are an unregistered dog animagus. Only a very foolish or very insane person would dare try coming here with ill intentions. However, in the extremely unlikely event that someone should happen to get past the wards…well, let us just say there is a reason Vice Principal Victor Franks is a _former_ Dueling Champion and not a current one."

Judging from the feral smile that appeared on Ranma's own face, that answer apparently seemed to satisfy the young man immensely.

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><p><em><strong>Green Lake neighborhood<strong>_

_**Seattle, Washington**_

_**September 17, 1991**_

As Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy all settled into their new lives as students at Seattle School of Sorcery & Science, their families were busy settling into their new homes in Seattle's Green Lake neighborhood. They chose three homes, all in a row, so they were all living next to each other. They spent a lot of time exploring the neighborhood, finding themselves particularly fond of Green Lake Park, and the adults also found themselves becoming fast friends. In particular, they tended to enjoy the antics of Ranma and Sirius, who would take turns pranking one another, although many of Sirius's pranks on Ranma tended to involve water, while Ranma's favorite prank involved using a technique from the Chardin speed-eaters to end up with Sirius Black gnawing on a dog biscuit.

All in all, they decided, life was very good.

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><p><em><strong>Ministry of Magic<strong>_

_**Office of the Minister**_

_**September 20, 1991**_

It was official, Cornelius Fudge decided. Life sucked.

After the treachery of Albus Dumbledore had been brought to light, the new Chief Witch, Augusta Longbottom, pushed through a motion for a full investigation into every last employee of the Ministry, from the Minister on down to the lowliest janitor, just to make sure no one else was pulling the wool over their eyes. The motion was phrased in such a way that opposing it would have been political suicide, so it ended up passing unanimously.

And then the crackdown began.

Headed by Director Amelia Bones, the DMLE began a thorough investigation into anyone and everyone to do with the Ministry, both their public and private lives, even searching their homes under the authority granted to them by the Wizengamot. The end result of this investigation was that several "Imperioused" Death Eaters were discovered to be not quite as Imperioused as they'd claimed, thereby earning time in Azkaban for their old crimes as well as anything else Amelia Bones could pin on them; the outing of Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge as a previously unknown Death Eater with _four_ prohibited Dark artifacts – blood quills – in her possession; and the discovery of the many bribes that Cornelius Fudge had received from Lucius Malfoy, which resulted in his immediate sacking from the position of Minister. Elections were to be held in a week, and as a result of her efforts at uncovering the corruption in their government, the frontrunner looked to be Amelia Bones, a woman who was quite literally incorruptible.

Yes, Fudge confirmed to himself as he finished packing his things to leave the office, life sucked. Particularly if your name happened to be Cornelius Fudge.

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><p><em>Author's Note: And there goes Chapter 8. As you can see, the repercussions Harry Potter's rescue from the Dursleys are continuing to be felt, even two and a half years later. I plot next time to go a bit more in depth about life at the new school for Harry and his friends, but for now, I wanted to establish the backlash of Harry's decision to leave. See you in the next one! Bye!<em>


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